On the Lam
by wordsofawitheringwriter
Summary: There was once a time when mages and mortals lived together happily, but not anymore. Those with powers have been forced into hiding, including a certain Heartfilia heiress. As she lives life on the lam, she comes across those like her. Some are friendly, while others total asses. However, once word gets out of what is happening to those who are caught, Lucy can sit idle no longer.
1. Preface

**Okay, so the backstory on this little project is it's been in my drafts for a while now, and at one time it was my baby. My first Nalu chapter-fic that I had all planned out and fallen in love with. Though, due to junior year living up to it's reputation of being the toughest of high school years, the process is moving at a much slower rate than I would like. However, I'm still going to post what I have written so far in parts, hoping that maybe finally posting it will encourage me to complete it.**

**Finally moving this little project away from tumblr and posting here! **

**disclaimer: I don't own a darn thing. **

* * *

_Preface_

_There was a time- so long ago that some of the younger generations are skeptical if it isn't just something their parents made up for a bedtime story- when mages and mortals lived together happily. _

_Such a thing could only be scoffed at now- merely rumors with no valuable sources. _

_To young, mortal children the very thought of crossing paths with someone capable of magic was enough to evoke nightmares. Meanwhile, in adults it only elicited sneers and looks of disdain and disgust. _

_A lot could be, and was, said when comparing the two, but harmony was a word long forgotten. _

_For many long, peaceful years wizards and mortals shared the same green earth and walked along the same paths. They shared the water and resources, lending a helping hand to the other party should it ever have been needed. Peace was apparent._

_But then, one day, things weren't so simple._

_It started small, a tiny seed planted by lack of trust in a villager that soon spread throughout. I__f there was a bad harvest, then the rumor in that particular village was someone had upset a mage and caused a draught. _

_This was ridiculous, of course, because wizards have to eat too._

_Or, if there was a flood, then a king might send out a formal apology, begging the mages to stop their nonsense; nonethewiser that magic had nothing to do with the bad weather. _

_Then, after many years, it became more than just rumors. _

_It became more than just innocent speculation, and things turned dangerous. _

_Scientists in labs around the world, backed up by countless, power-hungry moneymen worked around the clock trying to understand why some humans were born with powers while others weren't. Despite their long, dedicated hours and all the hard work, they were coming up with little to no results. _

_That's when the experimenting started. _

_Horrible, inhumane experimenting that was very hush-hush for years and stayed out of the headlines- until they made a breakthrough._

_What that breakthrough was, most civilians still don't know._

_But, whatever it was, made wizards public enemy number one, and forced those with powers into hiding. _

_Until now._

* * *

"_Damn it_," the girl slammed the metal lid back into place, moving on to the next dumpster in the dimly lit alleyway. Her nose wrinkled at the putrid smell, and wondered if she would ever grow used to it. She was elbow deep in day old banana peels, greasy food containers, and _empty_ water bottles- much to her parched throat's dismay- when she finally found something of value amongst all the trash.

It took a little effort to retrieve due to it being near the very bottom, and thus didn't exactly smell the greatest, but it was something. Smoothing down the material, the once-upon-a-time heiress examined the slightly faded fabric, pursing her lips as she tried her best to suppress the small part of her that missed the expensive silks and exotic furs- _hers_ had all been faux, of course, her father was a different story- that she had once taken for granted.

Tying the flannel around her waist, she carefully replaced the lid as she tried to make as little noise as possible. She propped the medium-sized box back up against the silver canister and tried to make it look as if she was never there. It wasn't technically illegal to go through someone's trash, but that didn't mean people were fond of others sifting through their skeletons in the closets. Besides, this was a more high-end part of town where the residents get a little antsy at the thought of people rummaging around in their garbage like a bunch of raccoons. If the girl wasn't careful, then the building might do what the last place did and call the cops to "watch the area" and that just wouldn't do.

If she were smart she would go ahead and take refuge in the more wooded areas away from the city, but due to being by herself kept her in the more populated areas. It was true that she was at a higher risk here in town, but city life- even living it on the streets- was more home to the used-to-be privileged girl than the woods would ever be.

Regardless, she would have to move soon. If the cops found her, especially now... a sharp, sudden shiver traveled south along the girl's spine, and though it had nothing to do with the evening chill she still found herself untying her newly found treasure from her waist and wrapping it around her shoulders.

She tugged the baseball cap down farther on her face, adjusting it on her self-done haircut that she had cried in the process of. Long gone were the long, beautiful golden tresses that she had been so proud of. Now, she was left with choppy, uneven layers that only just touched her shoulder blades.

Upon further inspection of her new shirt, she noticed that there was a small hole in the left sleeve, right along the seam. Knowing this part of town, that tear was most likely the reason it was thrown out in the first place. _Heaven forbid that anyone actually try to _fix_ anything, instead why not just throw out what no longer fits in? _

Images of her father's face flashed in the girl's mind, but she was quick to dismiss them. She returned her attention to the rip, and figured that she had enough needle and thread left to spare on such a little repair. She only had the color purple left, however, so it would surely show up against the red fabric.

"Okay, Lucy," she mumbled underneath her breath, speaking to no one but herself. "Time to get back."

Slowly, carefully, she poked her head around the corner of the apartment complex and saw that, thankfully, the streets were clear. The last thing she needed was to run into a group of drunkards on their way home from the bar, or have to avoid a scuffle with someone much like herself.

Both had happened before, and each time she'd had no one but herself to depend on for help.

Stepping out onto the streets, the girl turned left and followed the path of streetlights in the direction she now knew as "home," though it wasn't much to brag about. "Home" to the ex-heiress was an abandoned mattress that she'd found outside of a house with a for sale sign. The residents had been in the middle of the moving process and the sidewalk was littered with the things they were throwing out- the mattress being one of them.

There were plenty more things that the blonde could have found useful, but the mattress was already more than she could carry alone.

It'd taken an entire night to drag the old, stained thing to an ally where there seemed to be little to no traffic. Before, there was an old fire escape that led to the roof of an empty bank building. That was were she originally slept, off of the ground and away from the public, but knowing she wouldn't be able to get the mattress up there by herself, she decided the ground would have to do after all.

She knew that it would probably be safer to find a place inhabited by others like her, but she also knew the risk of being robbed was higher and felt it wasn't worth it. A shelter was out of the question as well, seeing as how she was under age and the workers would probably try to hand her over to social services.

Then, after the night long excursion of transporting the mattress, it had taken the entire next _day_ to set up a tarp that she'd found in the dump above said mattress for rainy nights. Underneath the bed she kept various sheets of newspapers and a little tin box with only four matches left. It was going to be a cold winter if she didn't figure that one out soon.

It wasn't much, but it was as close to a home as a runaway could get.

With every step in her old boots- where the worn leather was beginning to flake off- the key ring on her hip jingled. It was dangerous, being out in the open with her keys like that, but Lucy didn't trust them to be safe anywhere else.

The keys were her prized possessions- the _literal_ key to her powers. Three of them- Aquarius, Cancer, and Capricorn- had been passed down to her from her deceased mother. The blonde had two more, one being a dog spirit who, due to a language barrier, was currently without a name. Then there was _The Gate of the Lion_, which had been a present from both of her parents long before her mother had become sick.

The girl didn't like to have favorites among her spirits, and if it were to ever come up in conversation she would fervently deny such a claim, but she had to admit that Loke had a special place in her heart. Though, it had been a long time since she'd last spoken to him. The last time she had summoned him was the night that she'd been forced to run away, and though he had the ability to appear without being called upon, he hadn't.

But that was okay; she assumed he was just giving her some space.

She had five gate keys in all, which in itself was quite the feat. Nowadays one could only find available keys in the black market or from shady dealers, and even then they were only low caliber, as all of the top notch ones had been long confiscated by the government. Supposedly, anyway, the girl wasn't so sure.

Lucy wrapped her arms tighter around her middle, shivering. Though it was still only mid-September and the days were quite warm, the cool nights often left her freezing.

She'd lost count of how long she'd been by herself, and while traveling alone didn't really bother her, she sometimes really missed the company of others.

The idea of a friend was almost as foreign to her now as the concept of peace in Fiore.


	2. Chapter 1

**_Previously:_**

**_"There was a time- so long ago that some of the younger generations are skeptical if it wasn't just something their parents made up for a bedtime story- when wizards and mortals lived together happily. Such a thing could only be scoffed at now- merely rumors with no valuable sources…_**

**_…__Scientists in labs around the world, backed up by countless, power-hungry moneymen, worked around the clock trying to understand why some humans were born with powers while others weren't. As much as they worked, however, they were coming up with little to no results._**

**_That's when the experimenting started._**

**_Horrible, inhumane experimenting that was very hush-hush for years and stayed out of the headlines- until they made a breakthrough._**

**_What that breakthrough was, most civilians still don't know._**

**_But, whatever it was made wizards public enemy number one, and forced those with powers into hiding._**

**_Until now."_**

* * *

Chapter 1

With tough, calloused hands from years of use, the elderly woman handed the day old bread over the counter to the anxious girl.

"Right on time," the lady smiled warmly, her laugh lines extenuated by the action. "And the old man was feeling generous this morning." With a wink, she ducked behind the counter for a split second, reemerging with a golden, single slice of cheese.

Lucy's smile was a million-watts as she thanked the woman, promising to stop by tomorrow at the usual time as she bid her goodbye.

She was a regular in the small, family-oriented bakery, though _regular_ may be the wrong word. _Regular_ implies that she pays, which she most certainly does not. Coming by only early in the mornings when customers are scarce, one might say Lucy was more of a visitor.

Or, to others, one might call her a scavenger.

Behind the counter is an elderly woman, the grandmother-type, who gives her a slice of the day-old bread for free. It was a little stale and sometimes burned around the edges, but Lucy wasn't complaining, _especially_ when the woman's husband threw in a piece of cheese or a tomato slice. The blonde suspected that they knew who, or more likely, _what_ she was.

Why they didn't turn her in, the blonde couldn't really say. It just made her all the more thankful.

Her little breakfast was enough to hold her over until around eleven, when the free samples at the market started- various booths throughout the store with chicken slices or assorted spreads. Not wanting to be greedy, however, she'd worked out a system not long after coming to this town.

If she eats some of the free samples for lunch, then she'd skip dinner. If she skips lunch, then she busts her butt to make it back to the grocery store before seven, because that's when the employees began packing up for the day.

Granted, it wasn't the most reliable source of food, but it was still food.

Tearing a little piece from the corner of the slice, Lucy popped it into her mouth as she exited the shop, waving once more to the woman- little bells sounding as the door opened.

It was still fairly early in the morning, with dew on the windows and the sun's rays reflecting off various shop windows, yet the heat was already becoming more and more apparent.

Lucy put the bread slice in her mouth to free her hands as she shed her flannel, wrapping it securely around her slim waist.

That's when she freezes, the bread dangling from her mouth and hands stuck at her sides, because a couple hundred feet ahead is a street policemen- yawning into his hand as he sleepily scans the streets. His gaze locks on hers.

_Play it cool, Lucy._ She warned herself, trying to relax her stiff posture as she took another bite out of her breakfast. _You know the drill. Make it look like you have somewhere to be._

She knew, from experience, how suspicious he would find it if she decided to turn the other way only after making eye contact. So, trying to muss up her dirty hair and wipe the dirt from her t-shirt, she continued on. One foot after the other, trying to come across as nonchalant as possible.

And it was going fine; she very nearly made it.

That is, until the cop opened his mouth.

"Morning, miss," he tipped his hat to her, before taking note of her appearance. He frowned, though the thick, bushy mustache made it hard to see his mouth. "A little early to be out walking, wouldn't you say? Shouldn't you be- _hey_!"

Lucy had already high-tailed it out of there, her boots pounding against the asphalt. Her body had locked as soon as he had opened his mouth to speak to her, but she hadn't sprung until he began to question what she was doing.

_Stupid_, she berated herself. _You still could have played that off perfectly. He wasn't suspicious until your stupid ass started running._

From behind, she could hear the man's strained pants as he failed to catch up with her. What he lacked in speed, however, he was making up for in stamina, Lucy soon finds out as she rounded a corner five blocks away from the bakery.

Her boots slap the concrete, and luckily the streets were still pretty empty so she didn't have to duck around people. Though, it would be easier to get rid of this guy if she were able to bob and weave her way through a crowd like normal.

Sweat began to collect on her brow as she ducked into an ally, hoping that the two block advantage that she'd had on him would be enough and that the building had covered her.

Seconds later, from where she sits crouched with her back against a dumpster's side, her ripped jean-clad knees pulled up to her chin, she's relieved to hear the angry cop's footsteps run passed.

Lucy didn't immediately reemerge from her hiding spot, however, instead deciding to finish her small breakfast in the dark, dank ally where at least she didn't have to worry about any onlookers.

That's when she heard it… the faintest, most pitiful of meows.

* * *

He kicked at loose gravel, moving aside with the toe of his shoe what looked to be the torn remains of a tent flap. The teen scowled at the scorched remains of the enemy camp as he alone scavenged the area, looking for anything of possible use. He was so _sick_ of coming up empty-handed on missions such as these. Not only did the boy have to return to his own camp with nothing to show for his journey, but he was only proving the Counsel people right.

The smoke emitting from his clenched fist was proof enough of that, affirming what Natsu already knew.

He really was a monster.

Natsu just hoped that Gray had more luck on his side.

* * *

It's small, with light blue fur that was a little matted around the paws, but the kitten looked like it was being taken care of.

_Not a stray then_, Lucy determined as she tried coaxing the little guy out from underneath the dumpster that she too, like the cat, had been trying to hide behind. Down on her hands and knees, the blonde's nose scrunched at the putrid aroma consisting of spoiled milk and assorted moldy foods, along with the sickly-sick smell of rotten bananas.

"Stupid cat," she muttered, wondering why she was even going through so much trouble on its account.

Then, she's reminded of why when she hears that faint, pitiful little meow again.

"Come on, sweetie," Lucy tries a different approach, adapting a softer tone. "It's okay, little guy. You don't have to be scared. Come on out." The bottom of the dumpster is a few inches off of the ground, meaning Lucy had plain view of the cat, but he had his back pressed against the building wall, just out of the girl's reach.

Lucy sighed, knowing that there was a better way of going about this, but she was dreading it. The idea absolutely repulsed her and made her skin crawl at the very thought.

She had long ago wrapped her flannel around her waist, so she didn't have to worry about rolling up her sleeves, but she did slip off her gloves so she wouldn't ruin them. It was daytime, but the ally provided enough shadows that the girl felt comfortable enough without them, besides, they would only be off for a few minutes.

_If anyone saw the Mark on my hand, _Lucy reasoned, but stopped herself. She can't go there.

"Stupid, stupid cat," the girl groaned, squeezing her eyes tight as she lay on her stomach and, very, very reluctantly, reached underneath the dumpster. She was still out of reach, but that was okay. The plan wasn't to snatch the kitten, but see if she could make _him_ come to _her_.

Lucy did her best to stay in her happy place and not think about what possible things could be lurking or pooled at the bottom of a disposal container.

She clicked her tongue, not really thinking it would work but figures she had nothing to lose. Why she was even trying so hard for a kitten Lucy knew she couldn't take care of- she didn't know. She only knows she can't leave the little guy alone.

Also, Lucy was pretty tired of being alone herself.

"Ouch, _damn it_!" The palm of her hand comes down on something sharp, probably the broken shards of a beer bottle, but before she could yank her hand back, she felt a tiny nose nudge her hand.

"_Now_ you decide to come out," the girl rolled her eyes, but as she slowly retracted her hand from the dark underside of the dumpster, she was relieved by the little head that poked out a few seconds later.

"Hey, little guy," the girl cooed, slowly offering her uninjured hand for the feline to sniff. He was hesitant at first, but soon was rubbing his head against her palm, his faint purrs signaling his satisfaction.

Sighing in light of a job well done, feeling as though she had finally done something right for the first time in a long time, the girl relaxes with her back to the trash once more.

The cat was definitely someone's pet, because once she'd managed to get him out of hiding, he had no problem hopping into her lap.

"Just you and me, little guy," Lucy ran her fingers over the cat's back, smoothing down some of the fur that had become a bit matted. That's when the stinging feeling in her hand returned, and she looked down to see a steady stream of blood coming from her palm and running down her arm.

Definitely was not her day.

"Oh, thank God," a deep, unfamiliar voice came from the entrance of the ally. Lucy's blood ran cold. "_There_ you are."


	3. Chapter 2

**_Previously:_**

_**"Just you and me, little guy," Lucy ran her fingers over the cat's back, smoothing down some of the fur that had become a bit matted. That's when the stinging feeling in her hand returned, and she looked down to see a steady stream of blood coming from her palm and running down her arm.**_

_**Definitely was not her day.**_

_**"Oh, thank God," a deep, unfamiliar voice came from the entrance of the ally. Lucy's blood ran cold. "There you are."**_

* * *

There were bits of leaves in his dark hair and dirt smeared on his cheeks, as if he'd just spent his morning crawling under bushes in the park. His hair stuck up in a few places like a bad cowlick, but in reality it was probably from spending an uncomfortable night on a wooden bench.

Lucy hugged the kitten against her chest, pulling herself up to her feet. She didn't want to appear small to an outside threat.

"Who are you?" She asked, hoping her voice wasn't shaking. This guy was built, that much was apparent from his lack of a shirt. There was no doubting the fact that he could overtake her, and easily so, if things took an ugly turn.

He ignored her question, instead locking eyes with the little feline in her arms. His face looked annoyed, but his tone held a hint of relief as he muttered, "He'd kill me if anything happens to that damn cat."

"Who is 'he'?" Lucy asked, cradling said cat against her chest.

The young man shrugged her off, even going so far as to give her a look of disdain. "Don't worry about it."

The blonde scowled, eyes narrowing. She was no longer feeling scared of the newcomer- okay, that was a bit of a lie, but her temper was beginning to make her impulsive.

"Okay, fine," she snapped, and his eyes flashed up to meet hers at the sharp tone in her voice. "But before I hand over this cat you're at least going to tell me _your_ name."

There was a beat of silence, an almost standoff between the two as they appraised the other. Then, he spoke.

"Why should I tell you?"

Lucy was becoming frustrated, but bit her tongue in order to restrain herself from making a snarky reply.

"Fine, whatever," she murmured, her shoulders slumping as she scratched the feline behind his ears one final time. "I don't care what your name is anyway." Her hand was still bleeding profusely, and while Lucy had crossed her fingers that it would clot soon, it seemed as though that would not be the case. She wasn't sure if it was the loss of blood or the _sight_ of losing blood that was making her dizzy, but she sincerely hoped it was the second option.

It would be much easier to manage, if so.

The boy's brows furrowed when he had finally noticed her hand, but just when Lucy thought he was going to inquire, maybe even offer help, he turned his head away.

"Just," he sighed, his voice no longer harsh. "Just give me the cat and I'll leave. And don't worry about it's well-being or whatever animal lovers like you normally worry about. Happy is in good hands, it's just sometimes he gets a little curious."

"Huh," the blonde tilted her head at the little purring mass of fur. "So your name is Happy."

"Yeah, he has some stupid reason for naming the cat that, but I can't remember the story."

Lucy refrained from asking who _He_ was this time, though it still was bothering her.

Though reluctant, and not without a final goodbye, the blonde turned over her little friend- her first in a long, long time- to the stranger.

"Look," he said, and Lucy noted the way he kept transferring his weight, shifting it from one foot to he other as he cradled the cat, Happy, with one hand. He rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. "I can't just leave you bleeding like that."

She hadn't really forgotten about her hand, but had been trying to ignore it.

"Well, it would be better if you stopped mentioning it."

That earned her a smirk, but not a very long lasting one.

"Look, I could help you-"

"Thanks," she cut him off, "but no thanks." Lucy knew all to well where a simple favor could end her up. No one ever did something out of the kindness of his or her heart, not in these times, and frankly Lucy didn't want to find out what the price would be for help doctoring her hand.

His dark eyes turned gentle then, the first show of any true emotion since he'd showed up. "I didn't mean it like that." Then, however, something in his eyes changed again, and Lucy was scared to see it was recognition.

"Hey," he said slowly, unconsciously leaning forward on his heels as he bent down for a closer look at her face. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

She felt herself freeze, and the rush of adrenaline that shot through her system as her body viciously fought the inward battle of fight or flight.

A haphazard haircut and a bit of dirt worked from a far away distance, but allowing someone to look at her this close was dangerous.

Lucy Heartfilia, once the name of an heiress whose face was plastered on billboards as the unofficial poster child for "normal" kids.

Little had they known that she too was Marked; the colorful shape on the back of her hand that had been kept secret from everyone but her parents and select house staff from the time it appeared on her tenth birthday.

For seven years she had managed to keep it hidden with gloves and foundation, but then _that_ night of the ball, when Loke had appeared and she had no choice but to confess to a crowd of distraught, disgusted faces who- _what_\- she was.

Faces of those she had once considered friends, if not family.

The night that replayed over and over in her head; the night she was forced to go out on the lam.

No, she had come too far, had lasted too long on the streets only to have everything ruined by some stranger whose name she didn't even know.

"No," her voice was strong, collected as she ducked her head down so he couldn't see her face anymore. "We've never met, and I don't need your help. I can take care of myself." With one final goodbye she brushed past him, keeping her head down. He called out for her, but it's hard to yell for someone whose name you don't know.

For the second time that morning, Lucy ran.


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: this fic is my baby, please be gentle**

disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Lucy winced, sucking in air between clenched teeth as she cradled her hand against her chest. It _wouldn''t_. _stop._ _bleeding_. Whatever she had cut it on, most likely a broken shard of glass, had cut deep into the palm of her hand. It was quite possibly some of the worst luck she'd had in a long time, considering that she _needed_ her hands.

For a little while, only after knowing for certain that the boy named Gray hadn't chased after her, she considered calling one of her spirits for help. However, once weighing the pros and cons she determined that it wasn't worth the risk. She'd sooner bleed out in the dank alleyway than put one of her spirits in danger.

If she were caught with a being from the celestial world, not only would it expose her as a wizard, but also would result in her keys being confiscated. Lucy had made a promise early on in her journey that she would never let that happen.

Her spirits were the closest things to family that she had left.

She missed them all the time, but especially now. Loke might have _some_ advice on how to stop the bleeding, or if not then she could call down her tiny, dog-like spirit who still didn't have a name due to that damn language barrier. He was a timid little guy, but at least he could always make her smile.

Sitting cross-legged on her mattress, she winced as she placed the neck of a ratty t-shirt in her mouth, using it as leverage to tear a strip with her good hand. Setting it on her knee, she carefully unwrapped the old piece of cloth that she'd wrapped around her palm a good twenty minutes ago. It was unsanitary, and putting the dirty tshirt in her mouth left her disgusted, but it was the best she could manage as of right now.

She couldn't risk going to a hospital for fear of someone seeing her Mark, which of _course_ had to be on the hand that was cut.

Her stomach growled loudly during her ministrations, reminding her of her light breakfast. Lucy knew that until she could get the bleeding under control, there was no way she could go to the local markets to pick up lunch.

That cat had majorly screwed her over in more ways than one.

"Stupid cat," she muttered, wincing as the dry material of the shirt rubbed against the deep cut. Lucy had treated various scrapes and bruises that she'd obtained over the past few months, but she'd never had to deal with anything like this before.

She didn't know whether to apply the-questionably-clean cloth tightly around her hand or if leaving it loose would be more beneficial. The blonde also didn't possess the stomach to look at the wound directly, but she crossed her fingers that it was relatively clean.

Though, she _had_ been underneath a dumpster.

"Screwed," she groaned, leaning her head against the brick wall behind her. Despite everything, tears began to prick her eyes. "I'm so screwed."

"A bit dramatic, wouldn't you say?"

The blonde jumped at the voice, immediately on the defense as she got to her feet.

"Wha-" she swayed a little from standing up too fast. Her eyes narrowed at the newcomer. "What are you doing here?" Lucy asked, her voice low and like steel as she felt her temper rise.

The boy, Gray, raised his hands. "Relax," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you. Also, I wouldn't suggest hopping to your feet like that either." He pointed to her hand. "Loosing that much blood, you're likely to faint if you make any more quick movements."

She felt herself becoming lightheaded, but remained steady. At least, she severely hoped that the swaying image of Gray was only her eyes playing tricks on her, and that she wasn't actually swaying.

"Just take a seat," he coaxed, slowly digging into his back pocket to retrieve something. When Lucy saw what he was doing, her good hand was immediately at her belt where she could easily call one of her spirits if things turned ugly. She refused to let him take her by surprise.

Gray noted her hand going for her belt, but didn't question it.

"Chill," he frowned, pulling his hand from his pocket. "I have supplies to help treat your cut."

"You're in about as good of shape as I am," Lucy narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the little plastic bag that contained actual, real-life medical supplies. That stuff was like gold out on the streets. "How the hell did you get your hands on that?"

Gray peered around her, noting the lone mattress and the one or two other things Lucy had managed to drag back to her little nook and cranny.

"I wouldn't exactly say we're in the same shape."

Lucy scowled, "Whatever. How the hell did you even find me? And where's Happy?" The little blue feline was nowhere to be seen. "Don't tell me you've already lost him _again_."

"Would you stick to one question at a time? Geez, you're annoying." he took one step towards her, and seemed pleased when she allowed it. "And to answer your question, you're lousy at covering your tracks." He didn't elaborate on this fact, but continued. "As for Happy, I left him behind at a camp that I have set up not too far from here. It's where I picked up these supplies."

He dangled the plastic bag in front of her face, and while her eyes were trained on the contents, he made a sudden grab for her wrist.

"What the hell?" She sneered, trying in vain to free her injured hand.

"Relax," he hissed, turning to make sure they were still alone in the ally. "You're gonna make it worse. Besides, if you start screaming people are gonna wander over."

Lucy smacked his shoulder. "That does _nothing_ to reassure me!"

Gray rolled his eyes at her once more, and it was apparently becoming a habit. "I told you I wasn't going to just leave you bleeding. Now, let me keep my promise."

Once she had calmed down, and allowed Gray to ease her back to sitting on the mattress-she refused to let him sit there as well, instead making him kneel on the concrete-he was surprisingly gentle.

"Sorry," he frowned when he noticed her wince while inspecting the cut. "Antiseptic is something that we-uh, _I_ haven't been able to get ahold of yet. I can bandage you up but we can't rule out an infection yet. Plus, I can't promise that it won't hurt."

"Don't worry about it," she said through clenched teeth. "As long as the bleeding stops."

His hands were rough and calloused, no telling what he probably has to use them for these days, but he seemed to try to do his best to not be rough as he turned it over slowly to get a better look.

Lucy's mistake dawned on her just a split second too late, and when she tried to jerk her hand away from his own, his grip tightened around her slim wrist.

The only sound she could hear was her pulse racing in her ears, and the girl could have fallen to the ground in a sobbing heap then and there. To have made it so far and for so _long_, just to ruin it all in a moment where she let her guard down.

She watched his face carefully, taking note of even the subtlest change as he smeared some of the blood aside with his thumb, the red color deepening the pink shade of her Mark.

Lucy waited and waited for _something_ to happen. She bit on the inside of her cheek as she prepared herself for the worst. Would he cause a scene, or prefer to drag her quietly to the nearest police station and claim the enormous bounty over her head?

Her free hand drifted towards her key ring once more, deciding the situation was dire enough to call for Loke if things took an ugly turn.

However, much to the blonde's disbelief, there _was_ no reaction. He didn't start panic in the streets by calling for a witch-hunt, nor did he run away from her in fear. The boy named Gray offered no reaction, only flipped her hand over to return to the original predicament.

"Huh," he mumbled under his breath as he dug for something in the plastic bag, all while avoiding her eyes. "I knew I'd seen your face before."

Lucy held her breath.

Then, he grinned. "It's almost like poetic justice, really." He doesn't miss the way her shoulders lock up, or the way her hand has gone rigid in his grip. "Who would have thought that the poster child for 'normal' kids was really one of the freaks?"

"I am not a _freak_," she hissed, going so far as to rip her hand from his. He only rolled his eyes when she winced at the sting that the sudden action brought on.

"Stop moving so much," he reprimanded, as though he were an annoyed, underpaid babysitter. "And," he softened his tone, "relax." Catching her wrist once more, he dropped his eyes to the task at hand, ignoring her accusatory stare.

His voice was soft, a murmur as he shrugged. "I'm one too."

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